


Siren

by querencia



Series: he turns me to gold in the sunlight [9]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, Hallucinations, Insanity, Murder, Seduction, Task Force X
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/querencia/pseuds/querencia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me, But my jolly sailor bold..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leto93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leto93/gifts).



> Dark!Duchess is my new obsession. I was really excited to write Amanda Waller's case file on the Duchess, so I hope you all enjoy it!  
> (ft. some more interaction with Batsy)
> 
> Gifted to the lovely leto93 who I know has been a fan of Duchess since day 1. (I saw you from the day I posted 'Duchess' girl, I saw you ;) ) Your devotion to my series is incredible to me. So much love. <3

Your reign as Queen of Gotham City lasts for three years, and you and Mister J paint every inch of the city with blood. You sit prettily in his lap, pistol in hand, and one by one you take down anyone who stands in your way: Good or bad. Batsy, God bless him, chases you as best he can but all he finds are dead ends.

_(Specific emphasis on 'dead')_

Body after body, slaughter after slaughter, he finds in your wake. Every time he is too slow, and every time the crime scene is adorned with your graffiti: Sometimes two crowns. Sometimes your initials. Sometimes a heart with an arrow through it. Each time it is a bitter reminder of his own failure, and you and Mister J howl with laughter at his efforts.

Perhaps it was just an unfortunate coincidence that the day the Bat finally catches up to you is the day you're one bullet short. It's also the day that Mister J is across town, handling other business. They drag you to a swamp in Louisiana, lock you up behind three sets of metal bars, and throw away the key.

Belle Reve makes Arkham Asylum feel like summer camp. At Arkham they'd at least pretended that the brutality was in the best interests of the afflicted. At Belle Reve, you were just a doll to be played with. You sleep on a concrete floor, get fed twice a day, beaten and ridiculed four times a day, and spend your days luring the prison guards to you like a Siren.

"Play a game with me." You sing, pressing your face up to the bars.

"I... I don't think I can do that Miss-- I-I mean inmate." The young guard stutters, cheeks flushed.

You giggle prettily, big blue eyes batting and bottom lip drawn between your teeth. Your messy hair frames your face, and you twirl a strand around your finger.

"Sure you can!" You smile. "You're not dumb like all those other officers! You know I can't hurt a fly - Look at me!" You laugh, stepping back from the bars to give a little twirl. The officer chuckles nervously and nods, scratching the back of his neck.

"Y-Yeah. I always thought you looked, uh... Heh-Heh... pretty harmless actually..."

Your eyes light up like he has just paid you the best compliment in all the world, and you nod happily.

"I _knew_ you were different!" You giggle.

For a moment the officer says nothing. He just looks at you with a kind of excitement and awe - The way that people look at tigers caged up in a Zoo. He looks as if he is fighting with himself internally for a moment, deliberating something, and you watch him carefully: Head tilted to the side, and smiling like a little girl who just got a lollipop.

"Hey, um... Is it true you're a ballerina? B-Because that's what they call you, y'know... _'Up there'_ and all..." He clears his throat and makes a gesture with his hand, air quoting 'up there' with an awkward laugh. "The uh... Primadonna. Black Ballerina of Gotham... I-I just wondered if that was, y'know, a theatrical thing or whether it was an actual, um, title of yours beca--"

A burst of giggles escapes your lips, and you press a finger to your lips with a 'Shhhh...'. You watch the colour rise to his cheeks with a grin and then retract your hand.

"Come in here and I'll show you." You simper.

"I'm not supposed to, um... Go in there without other guards present."

"There's nobody around! Come on! They're all off eating lunch! If someone comes in, just say you were 'subduing me'. Don't worry..." You grin. "I'll cover your back."

The young officer shifts for a moment, and looks over his shoulder. He steps forwards to produce the keys from his pocket but you stop him.

"Oh! You might wanna turn off the 'eyes in the sky'." You note, pointing to the security cameras that surround you. You know that the guards can turn them off, usually if they're doing something that will look bad if someone gets hold of the tapes.

"O-Oh, yeah. S-Sure..." The officer nods, fumbling with a little clicker he has in his pocket. He presses a little red button, and you see the light on the camera's click off. Your grin widens.

What's your naaame?" You ask in a sing-songy tone as he starts to unlock the first set of bars.

"It's, uh, William, Miss." He replies shyly, stepping through to the second set of bars with a different set of keys.

"I'm Y/N." You beam. Once he's through the second set, you reach your arm out between the bars and hold your hand out. He shakes it with an awkward chuckle and red cheeks, and you giggle, dancing idly around the bars as he unlocks the door to your metal casing. He steps inside and you grin, stepping barefoot towards him and cupping his jaw in your hand. He quivers beneath your touch, and you smile.

"You ever heard of Tchaikovsky, William?" You ask, voice soft and breathy.

"Uh... I-I think so."

You begin to hum [the tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ea90L91eZk), and it's as easy as falling back in time. Suddenly you are Odette again, falling madly in love with the careless Prince Siegfried at the point of his crossbow. You're in a trance of swaying limbs. You don't need pointe shoes to curl your toes and extend your legs into an arabesque in a swirling chasm of moving artwork. Your humming is the tune to your every move, and you pirouette around William's shoulder as he gazes at you in awe. You circle him, smiling, humming, and come to a still before him.

"Y-Y'know... You're v-very beautiful..." William says, swallowing thickly. His eyes are wide as though he's in some sort of trance, and you place your hands to his temples, eyes glinting madly.

Sailors would say that there was only a moment - A split second - when the beautiful mermaid who had coaxed them into the ocean's depths became suddenly the hideous sea monster who inhabited the nightmare's of children. But by then it was too late. The Siren had worked it's curse, and you were doomed to her consumption. You wondered if when you came to a still before him, dainty hands planted upon his face, was when poor William knew he was drowning. When he stared up at you, wild eyed, thrashing and bleeding from the steel knife lodged in his windpipe. Silly boy. He should have seen you take it from his belt. He grasped at you desperately, and you sat above him, straddling his hips with your head thrown back and laughing. A laughter that echoed across the vast concrete walls of the prison, and alerted the guards rounding the corner.

 _"Jesus Christ! Who unlocked the gates?! Get in there! Code red!"_ A voice yelled from the entrance to your prison. Finally someone had noticed. You only laughed harder when the alarms began to sound, revelling in the feeling of blood soaking your hands like holy water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally revealing the identity of the poor Doctor assigned to Duchess in 'Requiem' ;)
> 
> #TeamDuchess

A second time, a King sits on his throne without his Queen. A second time, all of Gotham City regrets it.

The Joker is a man who has never before felt guilt. He is a psychopath. A gangster. A violent, dangerous criminal who cares only for himself, but when he loses his Queen he feels the bitter ache of guilt on his heart like frost that has to be scraped from a windshield. It consumes him all at once: The fact that _he should have been there._  That when that goddamned Bat finally caught hold of your scent, he wasn't there to slit him open and throw him in the river where he belonged.

Driven to an entirely new level of insanity, Mister J rains down on Gotham city like the plagues of Egypt: The police station goes up in flames; Senators are murdered in their own beds; FBI informants get their throats shot out before they can breathe a word before the courts; Civilians are slaughtered in their masses. Every bullet that rains down on the city is at the Joker's command, and Gotham River flows red with blood.

_**Long live the Queen.** _

Amanda Waller throws a file down onto a table marked 'TOP SECRET'. The weight of it resounds throughout the empty restaurant, and Dexter Tolliver and Admiral Olsen eye it with trepidation.

"You're not gonna pitch us that Task Force X project of yours again, are you?" Olsen sighs.

"Yes." Waller states simply. "But this time you're gonna listen."

She flicks open the file and lands on the first page.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Her father ran an illegal accounting bracket for the most dangerous man in America. When his psychotic wife fell victim to one of her 'fits', she flung herself off the top floor of the Wayne Tower, and left Y/F/N a broken man. He tried his best, of course, but Y/N seemed to have inherited her mother's insanity, and she was thrown into Midway City's psychiatric hospital for children at the age of nine. She got discharged when she was fourteen, and sent to the finest Ballet School in the country. By twenty-one she was just a nine year old psychotic in the body of a Victoria's Secret model. Her father tried to keep her hidden away from the dangers of the outside world, but then the dangers came to her. Daddy got behind on his payments, and the Clown came to... Persuade him in his favour. The ballerina fell in love with him the second she clapped eyes on him."

Waller turned the page to an image of a police crime scene. It was a bedroom that looked as though it belonged to a child - Pink and white, filled with plush toys and a dollhouse in the corner. The walls of the room, however, were black with writing. The image beside it revealed what it was:

_**'Joker. Joker. Joker. Joker.'** _

Written over and over again with an obsessive insanity. Scrawled over the top of it in a shocking crimson red was written:

_**'Duchess.'** _

"I remember this girl. She was the pride of Midway City Ballet." Tollier frowns.

"That she was." Waller smirks. "Greatest ballerina in modern American history. Won awards internationally. People paid hundreds and hundreds of dollars to see her on her opening night in Midway City, and one hundred and fifty people died in one of the worst massacres in American history. Including her father."

"What happened to her?" Tollier asks.

"Haven't you heard?" Waller drawled, a dark smirk tugging sardonically on the corner of her lips. "She and the Joker became the King and Queen of Gotham City. And that was just the beginning. She fuelled him somehow. Like gasoline to a lit match. They took over the crime underworld of Gotham, and reigned supreme. The Bat caught her once. Nearly caught them both. Y/N pushed her King off the Westward Bridge to save him, and got thrown into Arkham Asylum for nine months, subject to electroconvulsive therapy at ten thousand volts a day. But that separation did something to them both. Y/N died for him in there: Decorated her cell in her own blood."

_BANG._

Another page. Another photograph. Another cell marred with writing in a sinister chant. Olsen turned up his nose and looked away slightly sickened at the sight of the blood soaked page and the photo taken of her viscerally slashed wrist.

"She was resuscitated of course. Psychiatrists the world over bayed to sit for just an hour in her presence. One of them, Doctor Harleen Quinzel, believed she could cure her. Talk about a rough day at the office."

The next page was another crime scene. There was the pretty blonde psychiatrist in a pool of broken glass with a bullet hole right through the forehead. Admiral Olsen was beginning to go off his food.

"But the Joker found his Queen. He burned the whole building to the ground with everyone in it. Five hundred people dead in the stroke of a match while they both watched. He coaxed something out of Y/N: A madness deep down in her that nobody could reach, and turned a girl with child-like psychopathy in one of the most infamous serial murderesses of our time. She's got a head count of nearly two-hundred, and that's only the ones we can prove."

_Another page._

Scores of bloody photographs: Senators. Gangsters. Police chiefs. FBI informants. Gun runners. CIA agents. Cartel owners. Batman's closest friend and accomplice, Dick Grayson, also known as Robin. Good or bad, they all met the same gruesome end: Slaughtered viciously and mercilessly, adorned in graffiti like the wall of a subway, and put on display for the world to see.

"How'd you get hold of her?" Olsen asked.

"She taunted the Bat for three years. Crime scene after crime scene, and every time he wasn't quick enough. One day, he was."

 

 

_"Batsy, Batsy, Basty..." You giggled, the revolver dancing in your hand as you turned from the man you had just killed. A politician of some kind. Promising to 'cut down on Gotham's crime'. (That just wouldn't do. Mister J had let you take care of it, and that you certainly had.)_

_"This is it, Y/N. It's over. Come quietly and we don't need anymore blood." Came the familiar husk from behind you._

_"'No need for any blood, Y/N! We don't need anymore blood!'" You echoed mockingly, making wild gestures with your hands as your eyes bored maniacally into his._

_"You know when there was a lot of bloooood?" You asked in an almost teasing sing-song. "When my mother fell eighty stories off the top of a building and collided with solid concrete!" You said, smiling. You laughed like it was the punchline to the funniest joke in the world. "She splattered all over the sidewalk like a watermelon! And what did stupid old Batsy do? He watched from his office window! Mind you..." You continued, eyes darkening, lips curling into a malicious smirk. "Watching parents die helplessly is what you DO, isn't it Batsy?"_

_Suddenly your face contorted with anger sand you flung yourself at the Bat - Arms around his neck as you hoisted yourself onto his back with the agility of a ballerina. Your lashed at his neck, clawed at his face as your legs expertly collided with his knees. He managed to throw you off, but you sprang back up. You fired your gun once, then twice, and missed each time. Snarling in frustration, you lunged at him again, but this time Bruce was ready. He landed a few hits - One that split your lip as you reeled with laughter - subdued you, wrangled you off him and shoved you away._

_"Oh that's riiiight. You won't kill me. Will you?" You laughed hysterically. "That's alright." You grinned darkly. "Because I will."_

_Before Bruce could so much as blink, you just put the gun to your own head and pulled the trigger. He only just managed to knock the gun from your hand as it went off, and it fell to the floor along with you. Once he was sure you hadn't blown your own brains out, the Bat yanked you up and forced you into a pair of cuffs_

_You just looked over your shoulder at him, grinning with blood-stained teeth._

_"Mister J always said you were a pussy."_

 

 

Waller sinks her teeth into the bleeding meat of her steak.

"Now the Black Ballerina is in the same place as Deadshot. Exactly where I want her."

"How do you know the Joker won't come after her again? You said yourself, he found her at Arkham Asylum." Olsen states sceptically.

"She's not in Arkham Asylum." Waller replies without a shred of doubt. "Let's just say I put her in a hole and threw away the hole."

Deadshot. The Black Ballerina. Captain Boomerang. El Diablo. Killer Croc. An enchantress from another dimension. There they all were in Waller's file like some kind of comic book of freaks. Amanda Waller drank heavily from the expensive wine in her glass, and eyed the men before her coolly.

"You want to put our National Security in the hands of... Witches, gangbangers, and crocodiles?" Olsen asks slowly, giving a scathing glance to Tollier who leans back in his seat.

"Don't forget about the Joker's girlfriend." He adds.

"These are villains, Amanda. What makes you think you can control them?" Olsen asks, jaw tight.

"Because getting people to act against their own self-interest for the national security of the United States is what I do for a living."

 

Many miles away, in a swamp in Louisiana with no light, the Queen of Gotham City is strapped to a chair and has supplements forced down her throat through a tube in her nose. Your fingers contort against their bonds and your spine curls in agony as a sedative is injected into your neck.

"My job is to keep you alive until you _die!"_ Griggs chuckles, watching your face contort in agony as your nose and throat burns, and you choke and splutter desperately. You squeeze your eyes shut, and stars prickle in your vision. You block it all out. Ignore your gag reflex screaming at you to throw it all up. You think of **_him._** Of those ocean blue eyes you'd happily drown in. Your own unhinged mind takes pity on you, and plunged you down into the freezing depths of your own personal phantasmagoria show. You feel a pair of cool tattooed hands cup your jaw, and your mind peels reality away like the cover of a novel.

 _"Pretty, pretty, pretty girl..."_ Mister J says. When you open your eyes again he's there. All you see is him. You focus on him, and him alone. You open your mouth to speak but all you can do is sob weakly; it's a pitiful broken sound that Mister J soothes with a swipe of his thumb along your aching jaw.

"Shhh... it's alriiiight, Duchess..." He hums. You can almost feel his lips on your skin.

"It _hurts_ Daddy! Make it stop! _Please_ make it stop!" You wail pathetically.

"Of course I will, pretty. You know what I do to people who hurt my Duchess, don'tcha?" His voice is breathy, insane. You hang onto it desperately but you can feel him cruelly slipping away from you.

"Daddy please don't leave me! _Please!"_ You beg the darkness.

"Be strong my Queen. _Be strong..."_

  
Mister J's words echo in your head like a gong, and you come crashing back down to reality with a bitter screech as the tube in your throat is yanked out unsympathetically.

 _"Daddy?"_ Griggs is cackling. "Oooh. That's kinky, Angelina Ballerina. Should've known you were into that shit. You basically _scream_  daddy issues! Hey - We could get you a shirt wi-- _**AAAH! HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK!"**_

Snarling like a wild animal you manage to bring your head slamming at full force into his cranium. It hits him square in the face, and hear Griggs' nose give a sickening _'crack!_ '. He slumps forward for only a second, but a second is enough for you to take a chunk out of his neck with your bare teeth. Griggs screams desperately, and you spit his blood and a mouthful of his rancid flesh into the face of the bitch who had forced Strawberry flavoured supplements down your gagging throat. She screams. Griggs screams, and the last thing you hear is your own joyous laughter before the end of a truncheon encloses your mind in sweet black nothingness.


End file.
